A Torrential Complication (The Elephant and Macaw Banner - Novelette Series Book 7)

by Christopher Kastensmidt

She nodded and headed off without another word.

  Narre turned back to Gwara and Gerard. “We must find Conte immediately.”

  “Back through the rocks then?” Gerard asked, turning back with a frown.

  “Not like that. Like this.”

  At that, Narre clapped his hands with a boom. A blast of air tossed Gerard to one side. His head spun and everything went black.

  #

  Gerard opened his eyes to find himself in a different clearing. He and Gwara lay upon the ground, while Narre stood upright, as if nothing had happened. Gerard recognized the place: a spring near the Tupinambá village which spouted unexplainedly from the flat, grassy ground. From there, it formed a tiny, meandering stream. Beside the spring, a native man with the same erect posture as Narre sat upon a stump. Green designs covered his body in much the same fashion as Narre’s blue ones. Gerard could only assume he was Narre’s brother, Conte. The man skinned an enormous tapir with a stone-bladed knife, and a long, bamboo fishing pole lay beside him. The end of the fishing line held an enormous, brass hook, covered in strange symbols. The man paused his work and looked up in surprise at the group.

  A moment later, Arany and Cabwassu came running from the woods to the south, following the stream. Strangely, Arany held a large, clay pot in her arms. She gripped it as if her life depended on it.

  Conte lay down his knife and stood up. “Are we having some kind of celebration? I would have prepared cauim if you’d told me.” He referred to the fermented Tupi drink made from manioc which had been chewed up and spit out—a beverage Gerard would rather forget.

  Narre smirked at his brother’s comment. “Good to see you, brother. It has been many moons.”

  “Many indeed,” replied Conte. “If you’ve come all this way, you must have heard of my plan.” He looked at Gwara, who had just arisen shakily from the ground. “Little Gwara, did you hear something while you nibbled on my refuse today?”

  Gwara looked down and said nothing.

  “Where is Mayara?” asked Narre.

  “She is well,” replied Conte. “She has gone to the High Place.”

  “She will have company there. Jassyara has gone as well.”

  “If you sent her there, you most certainly heard of my plan.”

  “I hear you wish to flood the Earth.”

  “It is true. I have tired of these invaders,” Conte said, glancing at Gerard. “And those who welcome them.” He motioned toward Arany and Cabwassu. “Have you come to stop me, brother?”

  Narre strode toward him. “And what if I have?”

  “Then we must settle our differences once and for all.”

  Narre stopped just in front of Conte, who stood firm and met his gaze. Everyone held their breath in expectation.

  “Always foolish, brother,” said Narre. “I haven’t come here to stop you. I’ve come here to help you. You think you can do this alone?”

  At that, even Conte looked surprised. Narre clasped arms with him at the elbows, and the two embraced.

  When they separated, Narre said, “I’ve grown tired of men as well. Let us bury the past, and do this together. Not in anger, as we did the last time, but in harmony.”

  Conte grinned.

  “So, Gwara,” Gerard asked dryly, “do you have another plan?”

  #

  While everyone around her seemed shocked by Narre’s declaration, Arany wasn’t surprised. She didn’t trust these strange, timeless men. They had flooded the world ages past, during one of their many quarrels, or so the stories told.

  First Agnen and the land of the dead, she thought, now we face the sons of Soomeh himself. Could this day become any more hopeless? They were meddling with beings mentioned only in legends, passed down for generations. Her foolish husband had gotten them caught up in schemes in which no mortal should dare take part.

  Nearby, Gerard drew his sword. Cabwassu rushed to stop him and Arany placed herself between the two of them and the twins.

  “Don’t do it,” Cabwassu told Gerard.

  “That won’t help,” said Arany. “These two are not like us. They are more like gods.”

  “There is only one God,” Gerard—a devout Protestant—replied through clenched teeth, “and that God is nothing like them.”

  “Then think of them like those heroes you talk about in your stories: Heracles and such. They are far beyond our powers.”

  Narre looked back at them. “Call us what you wish, but your friend is right. I have lived for moons beyond counting. If you think you can kill me by poking me with that, go ahead and try.”

  Gerard sheathed his sword and Arany whispered a sigh of relief.

  “We can’t just let them do whatever it is they’re planning,” he whispered.

  “First things first,” she said. She held forward the clay pot. “Conte, won’t you please change back my husband? If we are to die in this flood, at least allow me to die with him in my arms.”

  Conte had already returned his attention to skinning the tapir, a job that was quickly reaching its end. Without looking up, he replied, “Trust me, he’ll be better off as a fish.”

  Arany saw Cabwassu clutching his bow, and Gerard’s hand twitched near his sword. Fighting the twins, however, would lead to nothing but their deaths. Arany could think of but one option. It was a path without hope, but would at least gain them some time.

  “If you think we are unworthy,” she said, “then we challenge you. We will prove our worth.”

  #

  Gerard’s jaw dropped at Arany’s daring challenge. He glanced at the twins, who—much as he suspected—laughed at the suggestion.

  In his travels through the Brazilian wilderness, Gerard had faced everything from invulnerable, brain-sucking monsters to mermaid enchantresses, but he knew they had gotten wrapped up in something far beyond their usual dose of the extraordinary. With every minute that passed, he had less of a grasp of the situation. Of one thing he was certain, though: when Narre said he had lived for ages, Gerard believed him. No simple challenge would solve this situation.

  “It is a good idea,” said Narre. “It will be fun, finding out who is best to decide what happens to the Earth. What do you think, brother?”

  “Fine with me,” replied Conte. He pointed to Cabwassu. “I see you brought a bow. Do you know how to use it?”

  Cabwassu gave one of his toothy smiles, but Gerard could tell the man was tense.

  “How fast can you bring down three of those fruits?” said Conte, pointing to a quince tree some thirty yards away.

  Cabwassu held the bow and five arrows in one hand, leaving the other free. He grabbed the first arrow and shot, then grabbed a second one and nocked it before the first had even reached its target. Gerard had never seen anyone shoot so fast. Cabwassu sent off five shots in a matter of seconds.

  “Go check,” said Conte, pointing at Gwara.

  The fox trotted off past the tree to locate the arrows. When he returned, tail wagging, he reported, “Three of the arrows brought down fruit!”

  Cabwassu smiled and Gerard breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this challenge could work, after all. When he looked at Arany, though, she didn’t seem convinced.

  “My turn,” said Conte.

  He retrieved the longest, heaviest bow Gerard had ever seen. He drew it back with ease and shot a single shaft at a tree at least sixty yards away, then rested the bow on the ground.

  “That’s that, then,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” asked Gerard.

  “Go check.”

  Gerard took the long walk to the tree and, just beyond it, found the arrow sunk deep into the trunk of another. The arrow held three quinces upon it.

  “Good lord,” said Gerard.

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Gerard returned to the group. Cabwassu’s face fell.

  “Don’t look so down,” said Conte. “You’re pretty good. But after a thousand generations in this land, you should do better. Naturally, I am better prepared to protect the land.
”

  “My brother thinks only of war,” said Narre. “But there is more to this world than fighting. You,” he pointed to Arany, “we’ll see who can plant the fastest. A test to see who is best to feed the world. I’m not as quick as Jassyara, but I think I’m good enough.”

  Narre pulled a pouch from his belt and poured seeds into his hand.

  “Planting?” said Arany. “I brought a bow as well.” She held up the weapon for emphasis.

  “You challenged, the choice of competition is ours.”

  Arany bowed her head in acquiescence and Narre counted twenty seeds into her palm. He counted the same into his.

  “Let us begin,” he said.

  Arany used a stick to break the ground and plant the seeds as quickly as possible. However, her face showed defeat from the start, and the entire exercise turned out to be pointless. Narre had planted all his seeds before she even reached halfway, and—amazingly enough—the plants had already begun to sprout from the ground.

  “Heathen magic,” muttered Gerard. “How can we compete with that?”

  “Magic?” asked Narre. “It is no more than the wisdom passed down from our father, Soomeh. You also can use whatever talents you have at your disposal.”

  “Can we begin the flood now?” asked Conte.

  “Not yet,” said Narre. “I’d like to give them one more chance: a test of wits.”

  Gerard stepped forward. “Oludara would be better at this, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Not you,” said Narre. “That would be too easy. I challenge him.” Narre pointed to Gwara.

  “What?” asked Gerard.

  “You animals deserve a chance. It’s your world, too.”

  “Very well,” said Gwara.

  “Now wait a min…” said Gerard.

  Narre ignored him and motioned to Cabwassu. “You, choose one of these banana trees. Whoever counts the number of bananas first, wins.”

  “That one,” said Cabwassu.

  In a matter of seconds, Narre said, “There are seven times twenty, plus four.”

  Gwara took a quick run around the tree and held down his head. “Narre’s right,” he said.

  “Unbelievable,” said Gerard. Resolute, he stepped forward, adjusting his belt. “So, what is my test?”

  “No more tests,” said Narre. “Are you better with the bow, or at planting, or at counting than your friends?”

  “Well, no, but...”

  “Enough,” said Conte, attaching the enormous, skinned tapir to Agnen’s hook. “How can we leave the world to you, who cannot compete with us in even the simplest of tests?”

  Arany looked at Gerard pleadingly. “You have overcome so many trials with my husband. Please, do something.”

  “Against these two? What can I do?”

  Conte lifted the fishing pole and carcass as if they weighed nothing, and held them over the stream’s source. The pole didn’t even bend with the weight.

  “Are you ready, brother?” he asked.

  Gerard looked at Arany, who could only return his glance with despair. Cabwassu raised his bow.

  Without looking back, Narre said, “Don’t make us kill you now. Save your strength for what comes next.”

  Cabwassu considered for a moment, then lowered the bow.

  With that, Narre stamped his foot at the stream’s source. The impact sent a shock wave through the ground that knocked everyone down except for the twins, and even they were forced to take a step back to keep their balance. When Gerard managed to sit up, he could see that Narre had opened an enormous crack, where the former trickle of water now jetted out.

  “What are they up to?” asked Gerard.

  Beneath him, he felt the earth shake. For a hundred yards in every direction, the ground heaved up. Seconds later, an impossibly large worm broke forth, snapping at the tapir with a toothy mouth more appropriate on a shark than a worm. Conte and Narre leapt away as the creature’s mouth shut upon the carcass, and the others managed to roll far enough away to avoid the gaping opening.

  The worm then descended back into the ground. Instead of falling into the humongous hole the creature had created, however, Gerard was lifted by a cold mass of water rushing up and over him.

  #

  The crashing wave submerged Arany and she tumbled over so many times, she no longer knew which way was up or down. Then, the irresistible current gave way to a steady, pulsing flow of water, pushing her ever farther away from the hole. Something grabbed her arm and flipped her around. She looked to see Cabwassu pointing up toward sunlight, reflecting on the water’s surface far above.

  She shook her head, however, and searched for her husband. It turned out to be no easy task, however, for the Great Worm—yet another legend that Arany had hoped never to see with her own eyes—had brought up not only the water, but also a black, sticky substance. There was so much of it floating around that Arany couldn’t spot Oludara within it.

  Cabwassu gave another tug on her arm, insistent, but Arany pulled away from him. She couldn’t abandon her husband, even in his fish form. Cabwassu shrugged and swam toward the sunlight.

  She scanned the water again, and this time spotted the black piranha rushing toward her. She grabbed Oludara in her arms and kissed him upon his toothy mouth. As strange as it felt, she didn’t mind. In some way, she was glad to die like this; glad they would never face the terrible moment when they must part ways; glad she would not live to see the day on which he would return to Africa, a place she would never go, and leave her alone.

  With that thought, her breath gave out and the water rushed in to fill her lungs. She had never felt such pain.

  #

  Gerard oriented himself in the rushing water and tried to get his bearings. He spotted Arany to one side. Cabwassu tugged on her arm, trying to make her swim for the surface, but she pulled away from him. Narre and Conte had swum to the surface like a pair of eels, where they now treaded water, high above.

  Gerard was about to follow their example when a flash of red caught his eye. Gwara had gotten caught in one of the wads of tar that the enormous worm had knocked loose. The tar stuck to the fox’s snout and feet, and a patch clung to his back. He struggled in vain to shake it off.

  With the water rising every second, Gerard had to make a decision. He decided to dive for Gwara.

  He grabbed the fox and heaved them both toward the sunlight—the tar would have to wait. With his lungs bursting, he swam as hard as he could. He concentrated on holding his breath, taking one stroke at a time, but with the fox weighing him down, he knew he would never make it. Gerard was still twenty feet below the ever-rising ceiling when he gasped in a blast of water.

  #

  Oludara could only watch in despair as his friends perished, one by one. Arany cradled him and gave him a final kiss before she died. Cabwassu tried to make it to the water’s surface, but failed. Gerard chose to save the fox, a choice which cost him his life. Now, Oludara’s fish eyes refused to shed his tears as he stared at their lifeless bodies floating in the water.

  Oludara spotted Conte and Narre treading water high above. He rushed up to attack them. As he approached Narre’s foot, he opened his toothy mouth wide. He would take one of the man’s toes as a trophy. It was a futile gesture, one that would certainly cost Oludara his life, but he felt little desire to continue living.

  Something, however, tugged at him. He looked down to see that a whirlpool had emerged from the massive hole below. Its circumference grew quickly, sucking in both water and tar at an astonishing rate. Oludara fought against the current, trying to reach the twins, but was yanked away. The water whirled him around at dizzying speed. He slammed into the limbs of a tree and the water crashed against him relentlessly until, without warning, its level dropped below him.

  Oludara’s fish body flapped as his gills pleaded for water. His struggles freed him from the branch and he smacked down on the ground. Instead of finding watery relief below, however, all that greeted him was mud.

 
; With or without water, he knew he would die. His body had taken a tremendous beating, and he could feel his life escaping. His last vision, from the fish eye facing up from the ground, was that of Narre standing over him, staring.

  #

  The water receded, depositing Conte and Narre back on the ground, along with the bodies of Gerard, Arany, Cabwassu, and Gwara. The retreating dirt and tar had refilled most of the hole. When the last of the water disappeared below, the man-turned-fish fell from a tree and flapped on the ground. Narre walked over and watched his gills open for a final, failed breath, before going still.

  Conte ran up behind him and demanded, “What have you done, brother? Why did you stop the flood?”

  Narre knelt down and touched the dead fish, changing Oludara back to his human form.

  “Why bother?” asked Conte. “Dead is dead.”

  With a word, Narre filled the man’s lungs with air. Oludara spit up water, but his eyes remained closed

  “What are you doing?” asked Conte. “Answer me!”

  Narre walked to Gerard and repeated the procedure, putting air into his lungs.

  “This one here passed his test,” he said.

  “What test?”

  “The only one that matters: that of compassion. He chose to give his life to save a tiny, insignificant fox. Can you truly say, brother, that they all deserve to die?”

  Narre filled Arany’s and Cabwassu’s lungs with air. The four humans lay with their eyes shut, breathing deeply, but not conscious.

  Conte stomped around, and Narre, thinking he might attack him, stood to face him. They locked eyes, until Conte’s anger slowly receded.

  “Not today, then,” said Conte, “but their day will come.”

  “Today we awoke the Great Worm, put to sleep by our father so long ago. Their day might come sooner than you think. But let’s leave that outcome to them.”

  “They know how to find us, how to pass through the tree to our homes.”

  “When I awaken them, they will forget.”

  Conte nodded, satisfied. “Until next time, then, brother.”

  “Until next time.”

  Conte clapped his hands and disappeared.

  Narre touched Gwara. The fox spit the water from his lungs and took a breath. Unlike the humans, he opened his eyes and wearily lifted his head from the ground.